Loving Someone Deeply Gives You Courage
by emmettluvr27
Summary: What happens if the ancestors of the Twelve Districts are brought from the past to enter the Hunger Games? And does love really conquer all?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES!**

**Being Deeply Loved By Someone Gives You Strength; Loving Someone Deeply Gives You Courage**

It was just a card.

A stupid darn card. But it decided the fate of a nation.

* * *

**Part One**

The electricity was on in homes all across Panem. Schools were paused, families huddled together, and thousands upon thousands of people crowded into Town Square in front of each of the twelve Justice Buildings, dutifully awaiting the reading of the Quarter Quell card.

President Reed stood at the podium, waiting for the young boy to bring him the wooden box full of Quarter Quell cards. He searched carefully and pulled out the very last one.

"On the 375th Hunger Games, to exterminate rebellion before it began, the ancestors of the rebels that unlawfully started the bloodshed in both rebellions will compete in this year's Hunger Games."

The relief across the Districts of Panem was undisputed. None of their children, their families, their friends would die this year. But to those who thought the Capitol was less than perfect thought otherwise.

"How could this punish us?" "And what do they mean, exterminate before it begins?" "And what then? If my great-great-great-great-grandmother dies in the games, what will happen to me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I told you, Mom, you have to fill in this form, sign here, initial that you signed, and sign here that you initialed," the teenage daughter explained to her confused mother.

Mariah's mother gave her a puzzled look and continued to fill in the financial aid form. Private high school was not going to pay for itself, so they needed a little help to get there. After purchasing a new house, money was not something easy to come by.

Mariah sighed as she grabbed the papers and stuffed them messily into her binder. She left her backpack in front of the stairs and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Putting the mint toothpaste on her dentist-issue toothbrush, she felt her life had hit a bit of a rut. Everyday the same classes, the same people, the same old boring school that nobody liked but everyone wanted to go to.

'_The same old me,'_ she thought. _'Always in the way, always the odd man out. Nothing ever seems totally right for me. And I bet nothing ever will be.'_ The little stream of misunderstood seemed to flood over her like a great river and she was submerged into her pocket of self-pity and insecurity.

Mariah slipped on her purple flannel pajamas and flung herself on the Hello Kitty bedspread.

_'For once in my life, could I have a good dream that I can remember? Because it seems that whenever I ever dream a decent dream, I can never remember it. So brain, do your job and remember, OK?'_

And with that she went off to sleep and dreamed.

In her dream, she entered a world all of her own. She was herself, the girl she always wanted to be, but never had the courage to. Her golden brown hair and chocolate brown eyes shined in the purple sunlight in a yellow sky as she frolicked on green mounds of marshmallows. Cienna and Shelby, friends from long ago, appeared and hopped, skipped and jumped with her, both feeling more real in dreams than in reality. The three walked arm-in-arm until they met another threesome, just these walked shoulder-to-shoulder.

A blond boy, a brown haired boy, and a boy with jet-black hair intruded their girlish frolic. Ashton, Antonin, and Tristin, more old, yet familiar faces. They seemed to form a circle around the three girls, spinning and spinning, faster and faster, until Mariah was alone in the enveloping circle. The circle closed in on her narrowing and narrowing until everything stopped.

No spinning, no closing in, merely utter darkness and the increasing beat of Mariah's heart, and her footsteps rhythmically moving forward. Then a toothy grin, a flying creature, a glimmering knife, a stab in the dark. A lone scream into the night and all was gone once more.

* * *

Mariah woke to find her pillow drenched in sweat. There seemed to be no escape from the horrible nightmare she was in.

_'It was only a dream,'_ she told herself. _'It was only a dream, only a dream, but it seemed so real.' _Mariah checked the clock. It read 6:25.

"There's no use in going back to sleep," she told herself. So she got off her bed and slowly pulled on her nylons. The white blouse and red tartan skirt hung tiredly in her closet, waiting for another day of wear and tear. Lastly, she grabbed her red necktie and fastened it around her neck. It was going to be a long day.

As she crossed Lincoln Ave., her black backpack loosely slung over her shoulder, she saw various other red tartan-clad students, drawing nearer to the same imminent doom. High school…

"Mariah! Long time no see, huh?" Mariah's best friend asked as he snuck up behind her for his usual tackle-hug.

"Gerroff me!" Mariah protested as usual. "JACK! How many times do I have to tell you that your tackle scares the heck out of me?"

"And how many times do I not listen?" he bantered back.

The two brown haired high school students laughed as they neared the tall three-story brick building. Their friendship couldn't have been more natural. The two had played basketball with each other every summer since the third grade. They hadn't become good friends until junior high and best friends when they both entered the same high school.

Jack Forrester and Mariah Morgenstern looked siblings, almost like twins. And like siblings, they fought with each other about many things. Which book series was better: Harry Potter or Percy Jackson? Was Mozart's Requiem really superior to Beethoven's 5th Symphony? The list goes on and on. But they really were more like twins than others would suspect.

When Mariah's chocolate eyes met his sea-green ones, it seemed that they glimpsed into each other's mind. Their basketball coach always made sure they played guard together because they always knew where the ball would be sent. The two had always shared this seemingly telepathic bond, and no matter where they were, were drawn to each other. Their relationship had always been purely platonic, but there was always a feeling that they were destined for something else, something no one seemed to understand except for when the brown met green.

Jack and Mariah climbed the enormous amount of stairs to get to biology. The room was nearly full when they arrived, so they quickly took a seat in the back. The onyx lab counter reflected Jack's green eyes darkly. Instantly, Mariah knew something was up.

"So Jack, who was it this time?" Mariah began nonchalantly. It was always like this. He was always carefree around her, but she knew when he was on the verge of tears.

"It wasn't a girl Mariah," he said. His brown hair slowly covered his face as he swerved away from Mariah's piercing glance.

"Class, will you please open your books to page 182," the teacher began. Her voice was so monotonous that it was almost as undistinguishable as the teacher from Charlie Brown.

Mariah looked over the chapter. Meiosis. No biggie. She had learned this all before, so she took the chance to ask Jack about what was troubling him. The look he had on his face was usually reserved for vicious let downs from cheerleaders. The last time she had seen him so grave was when he asked Chelsi, the Head Cheerleader, to Homecoming and she openly yelled her disgust at being asked by a World of Warcraft addict.

"Jack, you gotta tell me what's eating you. It doesn't help to keep it in," said Mariah.

"If only I _could_ tell you. Life could be so much easier, and we wouldn't have to–"

"Miss Morgenstern, Mr. Brocklehurst would like to see you in his office," the trombone-teacher said.

Jack quickly reached into his red backpack and took out a small, leather-bound book, which he slipped into her black bag.

"Take it Mariah," he said. "You'll need it. Trust me."

"Miss Morgenstern, Mr. Brocklehurst is waiting."

"But Jack–"

"Miss Morgenstern today would be nice," the trombone continued.

"Bye, Jack," she said, and took a good long stare into those sea-green glassy orbs. And for the first time in her entire life, she could not read what lay behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Brocklehurst's office was in the administrative part of Peanut Butter Park High School, the first floor. Mariah didn't know much about him, except that he made a tremendous amount of money and students that entered his office had a tendency not to come out. Nervously entering room 103, Mariah couldn't help but wonder what awful fate awaited her.

Mr. Brocklehurst sat behind his elaborate mahogany desk seeming very indifferent to her entrance into his sanctuary.

"There will be no need for you to sit down, Miss Morgenstern. This way, please."

Mariah followed the man with the cold demeanor through passageways of the school she didn't know existed. The further she went in, the older the brickwork became. Through one corridor, she was absolutely positive the walls were going to collapse on her.

After passing through that corridor, everything she saw was made of metal. From the floor to the ceiling, the coldness seemed unbearable with Mr. Brocklehurst's unsympathetic manor seemingly magnified.

They finally arrived to what looked like an oversized tackle box.

"In here, Miss Morgenstern," Mr. Brocklehurst said.

That was the last straw. She had walked through endless corridors and places where she could have sworn that the green stuff on the walls of the old brown bricks was moving. She believed that she was obliged an explanation.

"Mr. Brocklehurst, I do believe that I was not informed of the reasoning for my being here today. Would you kindly explain truthfully what is going on?" Mariah asked.

"Miss Morgenstern," he answered, pushing his gold round-rimmed spectacles up his nose. "The truth is a great and terrible thing that should be treated with great caution. There will be a time and place for answers. Right now it is your time to enter the oversized metal crate and get this over with."

_'So he thinks this is pretty stupid too,'_ she thought. _'He can't be that bad, can he?'_

So Mariah entered the giant metal crate with Mr. Brocklehurst. He subsequently began punching various colored buttons and pulling red levers. Then the tackle box began to move upwards. The ascent was slow going at first, but it then pushed the two occupants up against the walls of what seemed like an elevator. Next it dropped ceaselessly and Mariah felt like she was on the Tower of Terror at California Adventure. Just this was real, so much more real.

When Mariah was absolutely sure she would loose her lunch in the horrifying descent, it stopped. The brown haired girl slid down the wall and slumped on the floor. Mr. Brocklehurst seemed a bit winded, but recovered quickly.

"Miss Morgenstern, when you are ready," his regal voice said.

"I'm sorry Mr. Brocklehurst," Mariah began. "I feel terrible. How do you manage to keep from puking while riding that deathtrap?"

Mr. Brocklehurst just gave her a peculiar look, and she decided that now was not the time for questions. He then walked out of the super-elevator and into a 100% metal corridor, just like the last one they had past. They then walked through a scandalous neon pink door to an appalling neon orange corridor, and took the ghastly neon green elevator to the ground floor. From there they stepped into a repulsive neon yellow lobby. Mr. Brocklehurst put on his sunglasses and Mariah slightly sniggered. As they passed through the dull neon blue revolving door, Mariah stood outside in shock.

"Welcome to Panem, Miss Morgenstern," Mr. Brocklehurst said. But she didn't hear him.

Mariah wasn't sure what scared her the most: The absurdly painted buildings, the funky cars, the ever-color-changing clouds, or the disturbing people that dressed like they were going to a bad Halloween party.

_'But Halloween isn't for eight months? What is this crazy place Mr. Brocklehurst has brought me to?' _Mariah asked herself.

"Miss Morgenstern, please stop gaping. You're drawing attention to yourself," Mr. Brocklehurst said.

_'Draw attention to myself!' _she scoffed._ 'Well lookie here, Mr. Brocklehurst. We have people here with paws, claws, scales, tails, and skin dyed blasphemous colors, and you're telling me that I'm drawing attention to myself?'_

Mariah didn't say this out loud, but naturally, she wanted to. But instead, she silently closed her mouth, and didn't open it for the rest of the journey. Not when Mr. Brocklehurst left. Not when the "police" stuck her alone in a self-driving purple limousine. Not when she was escorted out and into another elevator. Not when they showed her the room she would be staying in and how to work all the gadgets inside. Not when they wished her a wonderful stay here in Panem. They closed the door. Mariah flung herself on the red silk sheets and began to bawl her eyes out.


End file.
